Revelation
by NJ Coffee Queen
Summary: Sometimes the most revealing moments occur under the influence. One-shot, R&R!


This idea came to me one night when I couldn't sleep. Turned on the light to write, drove the cat crazy, and had to stop. So, as per my usual fashion, I finished it at work today. One day I'll stop doing that. Maybe.

I own nothing. Still.

* * *

It was well past midnight when Hermione Granger heard the pounding on the door to the Heads' dorm. She had a good idea who was causing the commotion and what it was about. slowly she rose, closing the book she'd been reading as she once again waited for the Head Boy to return, and padded to the portrait. With a soft push the door swung open to reveal Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson, each shouldering an inebriated Draco Malfoy.

"Thought we'd return this to you," Blaise grumbled, entering the common room first, so as to alleviate some of their friend's weight for the smaller girl. Pansy followed, tightening her grip on the arm draped limply around her thin shoulders.

"Where'd you find him tonight?" Hermione asked, watching as the two Slytherins lowered Malfoy to the sofa.

Pansy groaned, sat down on the armchair by the fire, and rubbed her sore arms. "Our common room with his head in the floo and a bottle of Ogden's Finest next to him half empty."

"Or half full," Blaise joked, though neither girl laughed. "Depending on how you look at it."

Hermione scowled, glancing from one boy to the other. She placed a cool washcloth against Draco's forehead before untying the laces on his shoes.

"Looks like ickle Granger is trying to undress me," Draco slurred. She'd thought him unconscious as his eyes were closed, but clearly she was wrong. "Planning to have your way with me in front of my friends, mudblood?"

Hermione pulled off his left shoe, aligning it with the right. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that, Malfoy," she mumbled.

"Want me to stay, help you get him to his room?" Pansy offered, though her usually haughty voice sounded tired. Hermione considered the offer until she felt a strong wrap on her wrist.

"Not her," Draco whispered, bracing himself against his fellow Head. Pansy looked offended, but brushed off his plea. He relinquished his grip on Hermione's arm and sunk back into the couch cushions. He closed his eyes, his forearm draped over them, and added, "Make them go away."

Hermione turned to his friends, the look on her face was one of worry that implored them to understand. Pansy nodded, her head held high, as she walked to the portrait and disappeared into the corridors outside.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Blaise asked, his focus on Draco. "I can help you get him up the stairs if you want."

Hermione shook her head. "I'll be fine. I might just let him sleep it off down here." Draco moaned, letting them know he could hear their conversation. Blaise laughed and nodded before bidding them good night. As soon as he was gone, Hermione turned back to the Head Boy.

"What was it about tonight?" she asked, readjusting the cloth on his head.

"Nothing, Granger, leave me alone," he grumbled.

"Fine," she relented. She moved around to the other side of the sofa and grabbed the throw blanket, tossing it at the infuriating figure laid out.

Just as she reached the staircase that led to her bedroom, Draco spoke, "It was my father."

Curiosity getting the better of her, Hermione turned back around. "What was your father?"

The blonde cuddled the blanket to him. "In the floo. I was talking to my father."

Hermione nodded in understanding and made her way back to him. "What were you talking about? And why were you drinking?"

Draco snorted. "You'd drink too if you had to talk to Lucius." He rolled over, pressing his face against the fabric of the pillows. Hermione moved closer, sitting on the end of the couch by his feet.

"What were you talking about?" she asked again, her voice calm and soft. Silence passed between them as Draco burrowed his head further into the cushions. "Draco?"

"I don't want to talk about it." His voice was muffled, but Hermione understood. They weren't friends; he didn't need to share this with her. In the months since the school year had started, they grown from enemies prone to name calling and hexing to something more tolerable. But not friends. They could never be friends.

She stood once more. "I'm going to bed," she told him quietly. "Do you need anything before I go? Are you going to sleep down here?" Again he gave no reply, but Hermione thought she saw his shoulders shrug. The young witch made her way to her room, locking the door behind her. In the months since the war ended, everyone she knew had changed in one way or another. Harry Potter breathed easier, no longer afraid of the threat his mere existence posed to those around him. Ron Weasley, the boy she once thought she loved, was more concerned with regaling his war stories for every girl who listened.

Then there was Draco Malfoy, the arrogant, selfish, pureblood who teased and tormented her for six years. He had changed the most. No longer did he sneer and insult her just because he could. Before this night, the word mudblood had all but disappeared from his vocabulary. He'd grown quieter, distancing himself from people who still held the ideals taught by Voldemort.

Hermione sighed, pulled back the covers, and fell back on her bed. Immediately her eyes closed, allowing the darkness of night to consume her.

"Granger?" Someone was knocking on her door incessantly. Whoever it was wouldn't take her silence as a hint to leave her alone. Groaning, she slipped to the edge of her bed, feet finding the cold hardwood floor beneath. She made quick work of the lock and pulled open her door. On the other side Draco rested his head against the wooden door frame. "May I come in?"

Hermione opened the door wider and stepped aside. He went straight to her bed and lay down. Hermione closed the door, but remained with her back to it.

"He told me I'm a disgrace," Draco said, the slur that had previously occupied his voice now gone. The drawl that usually held sarcasm and biting insults was clear and pained. "My father, the Death Eater sentenced to life in Azkaban, told me tonight that I'm a disgrace to the Malfoy name."

"Why?"

Draco pulled his knees up to his chest. "Because I am."

Hermione shook her head, curls dislodging with the motion. "I don't believe that."

The blonde sat up quickly. Too quickly. The room around him spun in his drunken haze, but two arms steadied him. He leaned back once again and closed his eyes, willing the world to right itself. In his daze he thought he heard Hermione muttered, "You should have stayed downstairs." Anger bubbled inside of him, and he wished he had access to his wand. Or any wand, for that matter.

Hermione watched as his face contorted, his eyebrows knitted together and his fists clenched and unclenched. "I'm sorry," she whispered, placing a comforting hand on his forearm.

With his free hand, Draco reached over and pulled her hand away from his arm. But he didn't push her away. Instead his fingers laced gently through hers, holding the small hand in his grip.

"I went against my father's teachings, Voldemort's teachings," Draco said. "I surround myself with blood traitors and muggleborns. I had Harry Potter right where the Dark Lord needed, and I let him go."

Hermione shushed him. "Draco, you don't have to-"

"No," he interjected, tightening his hold on her hand. "I have...I have to say this now. We both know I'm weak and cowardly, so I might as well tell you when I'm drunk. I was conditioned my whole life to believe that I'm better than your kind because of blood. But the things I saw last year...I don't know, Granger."

"We all saw awful things. It's not wrong to have a change of heart," she soothed, noticing the beads of moisture pooling in the corners of his closed eyes. "It's not a disgrace to have a conscience."

Draco sighed. "Can I...would you mind if I just stayed here?" he asked. "It took forever just to get up the stairs."

Hermione nodded, though he couldn't see. "Yeah, stay here. I'll sleep in your room or something."

Draco tugged her hand close to his chest. "No, stay with me," he murmured as sleep threatened to consume him. Hermione relented, and Draco released his grip on her to allow the girl to slip under the blankets. With a quickly muttered spell the room darkened; a thin stream of moonlight through the curtains was the only light. Hermione watched as his eyelids fluttered and his breathing evened out. Satisfied that Draco was asleep, she settled into the bed with every intention sleeping.

"Granger?" Draco mumbled, his face half obscured by the pillow.

With a slight groan, Hermione rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. "What, Malfoy?"

"If I kissed you, would you hex me?" he asked. When she turned her head his eyes were open. The moonlight darkened his gray eyes, making them look stormy and unsettled.

The young witch laughed. "Ask me that again when you're sober," she replied. "It'll mean more then." She smiled at him and closed her eyes again.

"Hey, Granger?"

Her eyes remained closed this time. "What?"

"Thanks for everything."

"Go to sleep, Malfoy," was her only reply.

Draco rolled onto his stomach using the pillows beneath his head to block out the steady stream of sunlight that invaded the room. He was vaguely aware that he was not in his own bed. Lifting his head he took in the crimson colored sheets. Looking around he saw women's clothes, women's shoes, makeup, hairbrushes, a Gryffindor uniform. The blonde groaned, realizing he had fallen asleep in Granger's bed. Slowly he pushed himself up, cursing the bright sun and the hangover he was currently sporting. He carefully padded over to the shared bathroom where he readied himself for the day ahead.

There was a bit more spring in his step as he headed to the Great Hall for breakfast. Students milled around the corridors, moving aside as he passed. Bits and pieces of the night before came back to him - talking to his father, being too intoxicated to make it back to his dorm alone, Granger taking care of him. A small grin broke out on his face when he remembered the question he had asked before they fell asleep. His legs picked up speed, carrying him faster to his destination.

The Great Hall was practically empty when he arrived. Blaise Zabini sat at the Slytherin table, and waved him over when he entered. Draco shook his head slightly and settled his sights on the Gryffindor table. She was still there, head bent over a book as her fork pushed around the remains of her breakfast. He jogged over and took a seat on the bench next to her, gaining looks of ire from her friends.

"Shove off, Malfoy," Ron Weasley warned, causing Hermione to finally look up. She turned and eyed Draco.

"I have to ask you a question," Draco stated, his eyes locked solely on the brunette. She set her fork on the side of her plate and closed the book, giving him her undivided attention. "If I kissed you, would you hex me?"

"Yes," Harry and Ron both said, glaring at the blonde.

But Hermione paid them no attention. Her face showed no emotion when she settled her gaze on Draco. "You called me a mudblood last night," she told him matter-of-factly. Draco winced and apologized. "You drink too much."

Draco hung his head, blonde hair falling over his face. "I'm sorry for that too," he murmured.

"You seem to think you're a disgrace to your family," she continued. "You shouldn't think that."

His head lifted slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of her eyes. And a smile. "Are you going to answer my question?" He watched as she turned her head away from him towards her friends, most likely checking that their wands were away. Hermione turned back to him and took hold of his hand. Slowly, unsure of herself, Hermione Granger leaned in. Her lips brushed gingerly over his before she pulled back.

"No hex?" Draco asked, holding her hand tighter.

"No hex," Hermione replied.

"Please tell me he imperio'd you," Ron said, staring from one Head to the other. "That can be the only reason we had to witness that. Please say it was the Imperius Curse."

Harry patted his friend's shoulder. "I don't think it's the work of the Imperius, mate. But maybe when they stop making eyes at each other, we can ask that they never do it around us again."

The End.


End file.
